


Lessons in High Society

by Totalspiffage



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, cool prompt and then smut happened i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totalspiffage/pseuds/Totalspiffage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a prompt on tumblr: Fenris knows a lot more about fancy parties and high-class affairs than he lets on. Seeing Hawke struggling with her mother's demands to keep up with the rest of Hightown, he offers to help, knowing it can only benefit her family and friends by doing so. He accompanies her to a party, keeps her from making some brutal societal mistakes, and then accompanies her home. (Then the real party starts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in High Society

**Author's Note:**

> original post that inspired this: http://yarking.tumblr.com/post/121941403811/fenris-would-know-the-names-of-the-forks-and-where
> 
> I started writing and it got wordy, so I decided to end in smut hope that's alright.

Hawke was utterly exhausted and mind-numbingly BORED. She’d been held hostage in the kitchen all day as Leandra pointed frantically at various utensils, trying to get her to understand at least that the fish fork was NOT suitable for a pudding.

An intrigued Fenris, having heard Leandra’s exhaustive sighs, entered the kitchen behind Hawke’s mother. Marian looked hopefully at him, “Is there something the matter? Please say it’s urgent."

“No! I don’t care if the Hanged Man is burning, you are staying RIGHT here and learning this, young lady.” Leandra frowned, hands on her hips.

“Mum, we’ve been at this for HOURS, it’s clear there’s no way I’ll avoid embarrassing you at any social functions so why don’t you just go for me?” Marian’s begging voice had always worked before age 14, but didn’t stop her from trying.

Fenris raised an eyebrow at Marian and she sighed dramatically. “Fine, mum, ONE more?”

Leandra nodded, “Salad course. Which fork?”

Marian’s hand lingered over the left side of the plate on the table, her mind drawing a blank as usual. She gravitated toward the outermost one, but a small motion got her attention. Fenris, shaking his head. Did he know? Of course. He was probably made to attend parties. She moved her hand to the innermost, smallest fork, and he nodded slightly.

With confidence, she picked up the fork, and Leandra looked flabbergasted, “Marian! You remembered!”

Marian smiled, her grin lopsided as ever and as Leandra hugged her, she looked up at Fenris to mouth ‘thank you’.

 

* * *

 

 

“Thanks for getting me out of there. I owe you the nicest bottle of wine money can buy,” she said, with confidence.

“If you need help,” he started, speaking slowly as they walked, “I do know some things. Maybe not Kirkwall things but…”

“Knowing my mother, she’ll send me to whatever big event the nobles in hightown have in hopes that I’ll find a husband,” Marian sighed, crinkling her nose as she frowned. “I mean honestly. I’ll just embarrass myself. But… I’d hate to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

Fenris frowned, “I did think before I spoke, Hawke. I would not have offered if it truly inconvenienced me. If you need someone there guiding you, showing you what not to do, it might help you, and honestly, having you as a noble in this city helps all of us.”

“Truly?” She stopped in her tracks to look him in the eye. He seemed to be genuine, not in one of his joking moods.

“Yes. I can simply tag along. No one will question that I’m your serv-,”

“No. You’d be going as my guest. I won’t have any talk of that.” Marian waved off his comment. Fenris seemed to frown deeper.

“That might give you unpleasant rumours, Hawke. If you’re going to do this, do it right.” He seemed frustrated.

“So I can find treasure in the deep roads but I can’t bring an elf to a party?” She laughed, her bright eyes twinkling. “No, you’ll be my guest. If they want to question me, I’ll make it clear. I’ve got enough of a reputation that no one will bother harassing me over it.”

She walked away, leading the way to lowtown with a spring in her step. Fenris looked at her for a moment, and then followed, the stone cool upon his bare heels.

 

* * *

 

There came the day when finally, it seemed his services were needed, and not in his usual, glowing, blade-wielding manner.

A desperate Hawke burst her way in through his door one day, her short black hair wild as though she’d just rolled out of bed (she had), and dressed only in her usual home finery. “FENRIS.”

Fenris had been reading by his fireplace in his room when he heard the bang of the door and her call. Reluctantly, he closed the book and strode to the staircase where she stood, looking like a frightened puppy, as if her world was about to end. She did this often, usually about perfectly normal things, but still, he thought to ask.

“Is… everything alright Hawke?” He said, tilting his head slightly.

“You’ve got to help me,” she began, “Mother’s sending me to the Viscount’s party this month and I don’t know what to do!”

“Calm down,” he stated, “It’s just a party.”

“Will you come with me Fenris? She said I could take you!” Hawke begged, “Well, she said she’d ‘allow it’ but that’s pretty much the same!”

“Well, I know for a fact you have a total of one gown, Hawke,” he said with a bit of a smirk, “So you’ll have to get another commissioned. I should match, so people know we are together.”

She smirked a little and chuckled and he nearly rolled his eyes.

“Not like that, Hawke, I am trying to help you.” Maybe like that, if she wanted it so badly, a part of his mind thought.

“Only if you go as my date and tell me lots of nice things all night,” she said, giggling. She was making this… difficult.

“If by nice things you mean that you haven’t spilled anything on yourself, then yes, I will do so.” Fenris responded, his tone dry, but smirking slightly.

 

* * *

 

“Can I take it off,” she mumbled as they approached the Viscount’s court, where the guests were mingling before dinner was served.

“You know the answer to that question, Hawke,” Fenris said, as she tried to keep a smile on her face.

She made a small noise of discomfort as the red dress compressed her insides, but she smiled through it. She and Fenris made a shocking picture, her in a stunning ballgown, red, with a shimmery layer of black overtop, her crest featured in bright red stitching on her corset. Fenris, as suggested, had matching garments. His coat was black, with a red vest, and her coat of arms stitched on his pocket proudly. He’d never recalled wearing something this elaborate, even in Tevinter, where slaves usually wore minimal garb.

They entered, arm in arm, and she glared at anyone who dared call him a servant, which he had anticipated. She led him to the greeter, who was collecting the names of those present to be paraded inside once they were ready to be received.

“Lady Marian Amell-Hawke, accompanied by the honorable Ser Fenris of Seheron,” she said confidently, her smile dazzling and confident as her mother’s always was. The greeter’s eyes flicked back and forth between them, as if unsure, “If there is a problem, I’m sure I can fix it for you.”

Her gaze turned threatening, and Fenris merely smirked as she gripped his arm tight, her only indication that she was at all nervous about the entire thing. The greeter looked anxious, but smiled and nodded.

“Of course, my lady, thank you for honoring us with your presence.”

She could almost hear the greeter’s sigh of relief as they walked away, waiting with the rest to be received in the main hall.

 

* * *

 

As they descended, Fenris whispered reminders so only she could hear, his low voice rumbling next to her, “Back straight, chin up, confident, as if you could kill any of these people here with a thought if you so chose. Smile, but don’t let it reach your eyes.”

They heard it  as they were ushered forward, just as she’d instructed.

“Lady Marian Amell-Hawke, accompanied by the honorable Ser Fenris of Seheron.”

They were met with polite applause as they proceeded, and she followed his instruction perfectly. As a rogue, she knew a little about appearances, but she hardly let on. Perhaps it was more in the blood, Fenris thought, his own usually slouched shoulders proudly set and strong as he accompanied Marian through to the dining hall. It was odd, he thought, attending as an ‘equal’ for the first time ever.

An attendant hurriedly showed them to their seat, though Fenris beat him to her chair, making a show of pulling it out for Hawke.to sit. The attendant did pull a chair out for Fenris, and he accepted it, but Marian looked at Fenris a little bit in shock.

She leaned into his ear, “You didn’t have to do that, you know. You’re my equal here.”

He chuckled. “The entire room thinks I am your lover,” he said, the word rolling off his lips in a way that was surprising for Marian, “I am playing the part. This will also keep unwanted suitors from bothering you, Hawke.”

He pulled away from her as the rest of the table was filled with people, and Marian was left hanging on that one word that seemed to fall from his lips so naturally.

 

* * *

 

“Wrong fork, Hawke, this is the main course, use the big one,” he coached as she reached, yet again, for the salad fork. “And use the big knife as well.”

She took a breath and, once assured she was using the correct utensils, he returned to his own plate.

“Lady Amell- Oh I’m sorry, that’s your mother, isn’t it. You’re Hawke, the one everyone talks about,” said a high, breathy voice. A front. A grey-haired lady with critical brown eyes eyed her up.

“Lady Bonner,” Fenris mumbled, and she finished her bite before responding. Good. She’d learned something, at least.

“Lady Bonner, a pleasure to see you. I’m afraid those tongues will never stop wagging,” she joked, which got a chuckle from the crowd listening in, “I am as much an Amell as I am a Hawke, although the name does imply otherwise.”

“Ah but the Amells were so promising for so long, it is a shame what happened. It is good to see them return, even if it is like _this_.” The woman smiled, although her words were laced with insult to her family.

“Stay calm,” Fenris reminded, “Lady Bonner’s daughter Emilia was recently found at the Blooming Rose. Hint at it.”

“True, it’s quite a strange return. But how could the Amell family resist the beautiful, _blooming_ wonders of Hightown? I’m sure Lady Emilia would agree.” Marian said, her quick tongue doing her credit as Lady Bonner flushed fiercely. A quiet chuckle this time, those who knew. Hawke returned to her dinner, and Fenris felt a little proud of her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, not for the first time this evening.

 

* * *

 

The after-dinner dancing came next, with the finest musicians in the Marches playing popular tunes and the bards singing of current events while the nobles of Kirkwall turned and swirled.

Fenris had insisted they dance, at least to keep up appearances, and also because it would get her seen ‘interacting’.

She’d practiced a little, but the speed and accuracy with which Fenris moved with her was so shocking. He danced like he fought- with focus, determination, and skill.

“How do you know this dance? It’s only just come out, and I barely had time to learn it,” Hawke said, holding on and trying to follow his moves.

“This was popular in Tevinter more than five years ago. No one will admit it here, of course, but it means I am familiar.” Fenris twirled her, his hand resting on the small of her waist as they turned with the beat. She looked exquisite, and she was in his arms. He put it from his thoughts. He was here as a friend.

“I’m so lucky,” Hawke said, smiling again. That smile, he thought to himself, would be the death of him. He would do insane things for that smile. Like twirl her in front of a Viscount’s ball, showing off the treasure he hoped no one else here would have.

“You should dance with someone else at least once tonight, Hawke,” he reminded her gently, and she groaned quietly.

“Do I have to?” she said to herself, knowing the answer, “Ugh. I suppose the first person that asks, and then I’ll be done with it.”

As it turns out, a young man named Gregory asked her for a dance not five minutes after, and she twirled off, while Fenris retreated to the side.

It was odd, being back in this climate of things. Although things weren’t nearly as dangerous as Tevinter, it was still a bit of a troublesome task. There were no blood rituals planned for the most prestigious, nor was he in danger of being punished for not being- no, he wouldn’t think of that. He was safe, if gathering glares and looks.

“May i have this dance, serah?” A beautiful blonde woman said, approaching. He didn’t know her right away, but had seen her in Hightown. With a brisk nod, he took her offered hand and escorted her to the dance floor.

She knew more than Hawke, that much was certain. She moved with a sure, even step, and she smiled confidently.

“I have been watching you, Ser Fenris.”

“Oh?” He said nothing more, focusing on the dance, looking for Hawke, who was not so far away. She kept trying to make eye contact.

“You are interesting. For example those tattoos-,”

“Are a private matter, unfortunately.” Perhaps that was rude. He was quite good at being rude, lately, “Perhaps your name would be a better place to start.”

“I am Charity Marchand. And you, Fenris, do you have a family name?” She seemed to be hinting at something, his lack of a proper family, for one.

“If I did, I would wish only to be judged by my merits, serah.”

“And what merits might those be?”

He twirled her and his face remained blank, “I am quite good with handling impolite dance partners, you’ll find.”

She stayed quiet the rest of the dance, and, mercifully, Hawke came walking over, taking his arm in hers before retreating to the safety of the gardens shortly after.

“She looked like a piece of work, that one,” Hawke said, breathing a sigh of relief when they were out of sight, “Sorry I couldn’t interfere sooner.”

Fenris shook his head, “That would have been impolite, and suffering even an imbecile like her was worth not besmirching your name. Your mother was right to send you, you know. Your family seems to have a bad history here. Lots of work to do. You’ll have to do this again.”

Hawke seemed dismayed and frowned, worrying her lip for a moment, but looking at him curiously, “Would you be my date again?” Her eyes were large again, pleading him by her expression alone.

He smirked, “I could accompany you again. If only to call that ridiculous blonde girl names behind her back with you.”

She threw her arms around him and he gently pried her off, lest they be seen, “What would I do without you Fenris, my broody knight in armor, my-,”

“Probably,” he said, with a smirk, “Trip on the dance floor. I saw you with that man, trying desperately to get me to come save you.”

She gasped theatrically, “Why serah, you wound me. Perhaps I was simply jealous you had abandoned me for another lady at such an affair.” She turned away, throwing her chin up as if gravely offended, even as she grinned. He smiled and withdrew a flask from his jacket, pressing it to her hand. She looked at him as though she’d been granted the most beautiful daggers in Thedas.

“A reward, for getting through the worst of the night, Hawke.”

She quickly took a few swigs, gasping at the harsh feel of whiskey on her throat, “You are a blessing directly from the Maker, Fenris.” She took a breath of night air, as deep as her corset would allow. Fenris tried to resist the way her breasts strained at the tight fabric. “So, can we leave yet?”

“I believe our duties have been fulfilled, so, yes, we may leave.”

He led her back through the hall, and she said goodnight to the Viscount as they made their way out. Whispers followed them as they exited, her hand once again on the small of her back, guiding her out into the Kirkwall night. Her manor was just at the bottom of the stairs, but it felt like an eternity to her, in her dress shoes. Endless steps. She decided, if ever a time travel gadget found its way to Black Emporium, she’d kill the architects that built this city.

 

* * *

 

 

They entered the house to find no one awake to greet them, aside from her dog, Bear. “Oh no, I forgot to tell Orana that I’d need help,” Marian said, “Oh well. Guess I’ll get my knife and cut myself out of this mess.”

She lifted the side of her skirt and slipped out a small dagger, which was, unsurprisingly, strapped soundly to her thigh. Fenris sighed, and stayed her hand.

“I can undo the laces. There’s no need for that.”

“But this will be fun!!” she seemed eager to cause destruction to the dress that had trapped her all night, “It’ll be like revenge. Have you seen the way this dress crushes my heaving bosom?”

Fenris groaned, “Please never say the words ‘heaving bosom’ again. You sound like Isabela’s books.”

“Aha, so you DO read them! I had a bet, “ she smirked.

He sighed indicating the staircase with an exasperated look. She rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be escorted. “Can I cut it just a LITTLE?”

“No, Hawke. Need I remind you what you paid for these?”

She made a noise of protest as she turned and climbed the staircase. Once in her room, he made quick work of her laces, and she gasped a deep breath of air as soon as she was free. Immediately, she pulled it down, leaving her only in her shift. He’d seen her nearly naked before, of course, but not after a night of dinner and dancing. A _date_.

She kicked her shoes against the distant wall and turned to face him, seemingly uncaring that she was nearly naked in a man’s presence. Because of course she wouldn’t be. This was Marian Hawke, who dealt with much scarier things than the threat of her ‘deep roads’ being ‘plundered’.

She was no Charity Marchand. She was no Lady Bonner. She was a strong warrior, Fenris reminded himself. “You did well tonight.”

She grinned, “I know! It felt good giving that smarmy fucker a good high-society blow. That was great.”

The atmosphere shifted and she stood in front of him a moment, as if thinking something over. “Fenris?”

“Hm?”

“I really want to kiss you, is that alright?”

He leaned in before he could answer, his right hand flying to the back of her head, tangling in the short locks, and his left to her waist, pulling her against him. Had he been holding back all night, he wondered, getting lost in the feel of her lips to his. Or perhaps since he had first met her?

He had kissed, but this was something new. This was _Marian_. This was the woman who had pulled him out of somewhere dangerous and given him purpose, a new life. How could he possibly resist?

She made a noise against his lips as his tongue moved against hers, their breaths mingling with the heat of sudden fervor. He couldn’t stop himself, and she melted in his hands and his left moved to pull her shift up. He felt her skin, so warm and soft against his palm, and his fingertips trailed up the side of her torso. Breaking off their kiss, she pulled him back to her bed.

“Is this okay?” she asked again, looking him in the eyes, her bright blue meeting his green, and he nodded, “Tell me if you change your mind, I will understand.”

He took off the jacket, unbuttoned the vest, and her fingers stilled his as she finished the job, opening it and him shrugging it off the rest of the way. Her hands flew to his fly and he tensed, his breath coming faster, feeling her so close to his rapidly hardening cock.

She looked up at him and kneeled, unfastening his trousers and pulling them down as she pulled his cock free, white lyrium running even here. She looked back up at him, and then suddenly her tongue was hot and he groaned to feel her mouth around the tip of his cock, sucking gently as she stroked his shaft, meeting his gaze all the while, when he could stand to look for the pleasure.

Fully hard, and being pleased by none other than Hawke, he let out a soft noise and twined his fingers in her hair yet again.

“Maker, you look-,” he broke off, his voice faltering as she took more of him in her mouth, “So amazing- ah _venhedis_!”

She grinned, pulling off of him, and tugging at his shirt and pants in turn. “Off.”

They were gone in a flash and he pulled her onto her own bed, pulling her shift off in a second, before moving to her breastband. He left teasing kisses down her neck, his breath warm against her skin, feeling her shiver under him as he teased the cloth covering her small, perky breasts. He pulled the band off, and immediately his mouth was upon her, flicking a nipple with a tongue, while his hand teased the other.

“I am so wet for you.”

He locked eyes with her before kissing her on the lips again, humming contentedly against her mouth. He pulled away, and she panted, a hand drifting down to her last piece of clothing, stroking against her clit over the cloth and making her cry out as he felt her arousal soaking it. He retreated a moment, to pull them over her hips and off her long legs, kissing her thighs as he did so. He licked her cautiously, feeling her hands tangle in his hair, for a change. He sucked softly on her clit, moving down to lick her from the bottom of her folds up to the top again.

His mouth was hot against her and she tried not to thrash as the sensation threatened to overtake her. She gripped his hair and bucked against his face, feeling her arousal grow even more as he pulled away and crawled up against her. His hand went to a breast again, and their mouths met in a passionate, open-mouthed kiss. She tasted herself on him, a mix of both their flavors, and she moaned.

His cock was hard against her thigh and he thrust against her out of pure instinct. As they pulled apart, he looked at her intensely, pushing her legs open wide and moving between them as if he belonged there. He positioned himself, teasing the head of his cock against her wetness, and she wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs. He slid into her, slowly stretching her out as she threw her head back in a gasp.

“Marian,” his voice rumbled. She felt she could come listening to his voice calling out her name alone if she tried. But right now, his cock was slowly moving inside her, filling her up and she held her breath until he was completely inside her. She urged him to move with her heels pushing him slightly.

“Fuck me, please, move I need to feel you,” she babbled, and one of his hands went to her breast and the other to her neck as he leaned down over her to mark her collarbone roughly, sucking hard as his cock slipped almost entirely out of her before slamming back in.

She made a high keening noise, and he groaned at the feel of her, tight and gripping, her wetness all around him.

“My, Serah Hawke, you sound like you enjoy this dance,” he said, thrusting yet again, his lips against her ear as she moaned for more.

She surprised him, rolling him on his back with no warning, taking over the pace as she rocked on top of him, pulling his hands to her breasts as they shook slightly with every downward thrust she made on top of him.

“This,” she said, rocking slower while she spoke, “Is one dance I can lead.”

She leaned down against him and kissed him soundly as she rocked her hips, Fenris’s hand snaked between them and he found her clit, rubbing fast as she made those small noises whenever he filled her completely.

“I’m- I’m close, Hawke.”

She nodded, breathless, and rode him even faster, desperate to finish with him. He thrust up into her and it seemed to send her over. She closed her eyes and her moan formed his name as she stilled on top of him. She shook around him as he thrust twice more into her tight heat, letting go completely and coming, holding her, her knees giving out as he slipped out and she collapsed next to him.

There was silence a few moments and she giggled. He looked at her, still catching his own breath, and she smiled at him, moving closer to wrap an arm around him.

“Best date ever,” she said, kissing his cheek.

He smiled ever so slightly and moved to kiss her mouth.

“More parties,” he whispered against her lips, and she laughed, and that laugh would be the death of him.

 

 


End file.
